


Generally Looking Up

by orphan_account



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, revamp of my old FFN story!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:14:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, silence is the best way to mend mistakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Generally Looking Up

**Author's Note:**

> This... isn't exactly, word-for-word what I had written before on FFN. I made some changes. Not anything extreme, but you might get confused if you don't give it a quick once-over. I've been re-working the plotline for the past while, working out all the kinks and I changed the story a bit.
> 
> I just replaced some story bits with other, less generic bits and made it make more... more sense, I think. And the characters are not quite as OOC as before. Other than that: virtually the same, yes
> 
> That is all. Enjoy chapter the first and expect an update soon!

Disclaimer: Do you honestly think that Valve wastes it's time writing fanfics about Portal? ...possibly. I dunno what they do with their time. But I'm not them and don't own Portal.

During the past few months he had been stuck floating in the stuff, Wheatley had learned a lot about space. One, they called it space for a good reason. Besides the Earth, moon, and the odd space meteor, his new home was enveloped in nothing but emptiness and a few twinkling stars in the distance. It was an empty wasteland that made him long for the safety of his management rail.

He had also come to realize how much he hated; no, despised the bloody place. It was dark, cold, and terribly lonesome. As far as his programming could recall, he'd never so much as looked at the outside world before being sucked into the very depths of it. The extent of his knowledge that those scientists bothered to embed in was that the sky was blue and warm and made all the little human children happy. Often during hibernation did he dream of this wondrous thing called a "sky" and how lovely it might feel to feel enshrouded in warmth and light instead of the awful dampness that was Aperture Laboratories.

Well, here's a little something he was beginning to pick up: those stupid scientists always lied to him. He turned on his flashlight? Nope. Still alive. Fell off the management rail? Still healthy and breathing, theoretically speaking. Oh, the sky's blue, they say? No. Wheatley considered himself an expert through experience on the subject, and as far as he could tell, the sky was most certainly not blue! It was blacker than the blackest black that ever was to be devoid of flipping color.

Humans. Think their vision is so much higher and mightier just because their receptors weren't synthetic. Go figure.

Then, there was the matter of loneliness. Note how he used the word lonely and not... silent. Because it certainly was not the latter. He hadn't gotten a moment-- a single moment! -- of peace and quiet in the last few years.

And it was funny, how things worked out that way. Space is supposed to be the most silent place in the universe, they say. Sound can't travel there and everyone else who thinks otherwise is a moron, they say. Nobody can here your pitiful scream in space, they say. Well. Here's where the funny bit kicks in.

Wheatley couldn't remember a less silent time in his life. Him. The core that everyone told to shut up constantly or else they'd rip out his vocal processors. Even he was wishing he had a self-destruct button to escape the noise. Because(oh, lucky him!) he was aimlessly floating around Earth with none other than the one and only space sphere, who didn't even have the word "mute" programmed in his vocabulary. Or any other word except space, really.

And man, did he use that word a lot. Yes, Wheatley definitely remembered hearing one of those scientists tell him (in a very self-confident tone, mind you) that no sound could be heard in space ages ago. Clearly, he was wrong. Terribly wrong.

"SPAAAAAAAAAA-"

Oh, here we go again! Right on cue. Wheatley crinched inwardly. It was the nineteenth time in the past minute his companion over yonder had said space. Yes. Nineteenth. If there were any walls in space, Wheatley would bang his head against it. Repeatedly. Until it killed him. To death.

"Space! Space! We'reinspace!" shouted the Space Core.

He tried to ignore the sound, though he knew it was a fruitless attempt. With five years of endless rambling on his side, the odds were low he'd finally succeed in blocking the voice out. What was he monologueing about again? Ah, right. Loneliness. Well, he supposed it wasn't remorse for being alone in general, really. A few years of silence would do him loads of good, and he could think of many a specific person/being he would remove himself from if he only could.

Okay, only one. But could you blame him? What a lousy end of the stick he got, stuck with such a--

"We're in-- we're in space," mumbled Space Core to himself, ever the awestricken. "Space is in me! I can feel it, I can feel the space!"

Ugh. Interrupting his soliloquy. How uncouth(whatever that meant. It sounded sophisticated).

Ahem. Yes, he would gladly take those years of solitude over his current situation a thousand times over. There was really only one person-- a lady-- that he was interested in coming into contact with. He didn't want much. Just a few seconds. He only needed to apolog--

"Look, Space Buddy! Spacebuddyspacebuddy I'm making space angels! Woo! Lookit me go!" Space Core flailed his handles up and down in a pitiful mimicry of a child in the snow. "I'm making space angels in space!"

"Hey... hey, ah, Space Mate!" he called, hoping using the affromented word 'space' would catch the little core's attention.

"SPAAAAAaAaAaaacceee?" Space Core stopped abruptly and faced the other expectantly.

It worked. Well, that was a first. For five years, the Space Core had never stopped his chanting and actually listened to him. Not in the forever since they were blasted up to outer space. He... wasn't exactly sure what to say to the little guy, now that he had his attention. Half a decade and he barely knew the guy! Ice breaker, he needed an ice breaker. Conversation starter. Anything to keep the topic away from the 'S' word.

"Um..." his voice faltered. "How... how's it going over there?"

Oh, brilliant. He crossed his theoretical fingers in suspense. Don't say it... c'mon, don't even think it...

"We're in space," Space Core replied bluntly.

"Yeah, so we are, mate," he answered reluctantly and with a twinge of disappointment. Still, a conversation was better at none at all. "I've got it. Space. Been in space for quite a long time, haven't we? Let's see, it's been about.." Wheatley searched his database. "Five years and twelve minutes. Huh. Doesn't feel like five, does it? I'd say a solid ten, at least. What d'you think?" No response. "Any New Year's resolutions? I've got one. A few, really. Most of 'em involve leaving the bloody place, though, which seems to be looking grim. What about you?"

"I love space. Space buddies. Space comets. Space stars. Space whales. Space. Want to go to spacceeeee," he whined, agitation creeping into his voice."

"Two things wrong here, uh... Space Compadre." He tried to explain in a patient and even voice, as if talking to a child. "One, we're already in space. See, look at this. Anywhere. Look all around us. See the black stuff? It's space. Everywhere. Space. And another thing. I'm not exactly an expert on this so don't quote me in any textbooks here, but I'm pretty sure there's no such thing as a space whale. One hundred percent certain, come to think of it. No flipping space whales." He shook himself to emphasize his point." There's nothing but us unlucky souls up here."

"And space cops," added in Space Core.

"No space cops, either," corrected Wheatley again. "Nobody except us."

"Nobody except us," repeated Space Core agreeably. "And the space cops."

"No, no, no!" said Wheatley in exasperation. "How many times do we have to go over this? Space cops don't exist. Nothing for 'em to police, anyways." The Space Core didn't make any motions of understanding, so Wheatley continued on. "Okay, maybe a hands on experience will help. Repeat after me: there are no space cops.

His partner-in-space(for lack of a better word) was clammed up for a moment and Wheatley's thoughts took a turn for the worst. He pleaded to the heavens. Don'tsayitdon'tsayitdon'tsayit-

"SPAAACCEEEE!"

"SPACE!" yelled Wheatley exasperatedly. "I know we're in space! I'm not blind, I can see the space just fine! Too flippin' well for my liking, to be honest! All of the bloody space you're crazy about, I know! I know! You can quit telling me every five seconds, mate, or I swear I will kill both of us! That is, if we don't just off it from a meteor crashing into us or-or-or we run out of energy or your flipping space whales come and- I dunno - whale us to death because we're stuck here in SPACE!"

The space core was finally, for the first time in his existance... speechless. Wheatley dare not make a sound, lest he start up again with his frantic space-ing. After a few soundless moments, things started to go almost eerie. With the babbling gone, space was somewhat dark and formidable. And he didn't notice how cold it was before. This could partially because he didn't exactly have nerve endings, yet he shivered instinctively all the same.

In Aperture, he had been lonely. In space? He was apprehensive, if not a little scared.

He tried to break the silence in the least-awkward way possible, hoping he hadn't inflicted any emotional damage.

"You know, it's funny how irony works," he started, flinching as a hunk of rock came hurling towards him, nicking a chip off his side. "They used to tell me to shut it all of the time. Those humans, I mean. Downright threatened to take out my voice chip about a billion times and did at one point. Long story short, they gave it back after they forced me to beg for it. Silently. That was a nightmare! Had to do a trick with my optic, y'see, and--" He stopped himself mid ramble. "--Ah, but I digress! Anyways, now look at me. Telling my only companion in this wasteland to zip it! I'll admit it! That was rude of me."

Still no answer.

"Er, sorry about that. It's just... frustrating being in space. I want to be back and I could just... tell everyone how flipping sorry I am. But I'm thousands and thousands away from... from that lady, for starters. She's probably laughing at my downfall while I'm tumbling in an orbit of... of shame! And regret! And a whole bunch of other nasty emotions! You've got to understand, mate, that my emotions are in turmoil from this who traumatic place. Well, I guess you won't though. You'd never understand. Bloody love space, don't you?"

He chuckled softly, trying to make light of his apology attempt.

"What I'm trying to say is... I'm sorry. Shouldn't have snapped at you like that, especially since you probably don't understand me anyways. Um... I'm, space. Sorry, space. Space Core, space. Get it, now? So, do you forgive me?" No answer. "Er...yeah?" Not a word was uttered. "You know, I'm trying my best here, I really am, and it hurts that you're not resp-ooohhhh!"

As Wheatley brought his optic up to face the space sphere, it dawned on him just why the poor guy wasn't responding or even muttering his favorite word dejectedly. While he was rambling, he hadn't noticed the huge crack! as a massive chunk of debris walloped Space Core and sent him flying out of the Earth's orbit and to who knows where. If he really strained himself, he could almost hear a faint, "aaaceee..." and then nothing as the core was nothing but a yellowish speck in the distance.

"Oh, no!" he cried. "I'll save you, Space-y I-- okay, no I won't. Don't wanna risk it. He would've wanted it this way."

It was uncomfortably quiet without his little companion yelling his head off.

"...well," he stated, trying to improvise a quick euology. "That was-- ironic. To think the guy obsessed with space would be done in by a huge chunk of space, in the end. You've gotta admit the irony in that, mate. Well, I guess you can't being gone to who knows where and all. Hey! On the bright side, it sort of proved my point of how irony works, didn't it? That worked out rather nicely, I think. Anyways, I'll miss you, space buddy. You were too young. Ahead of your time, so very tragic and all that. I'd wear black, but... y'know. We don't... uh wear... nevermind. Aaannnd--okay, I feel stupid talking to nobody so I'll just shut up now."

And there he was left, floating alone like a lonely little satellite, trailing close behind him an empty shell of a sphere, a haunting corpse made of wires and metal. For once, everything was completely silent. There was another fact Wheatley could add to his list of horrible things having to do with space. Space was finally, finally silent. And it was beginning to drive him into madness.

Another year passed. Maybe two. He didn't even bother checking nor did he care. Truth be told, it was torturous left gazing at the stars for eternity and always spinning, spinning, spinning around the earth never stopping to catch his hypothetical breath. Rocks and other debris flying towards him at alarming sizes gave him more than a few dents and scratches over the years.

Not to mention the powered down body of the space sphere was still circling by his side with it's blank, cracked screen. Gave him the shivers just to think about it. It was really a miracle he didn't go bonkers.

Or was he already insane? Can't exactly give himself a little head check, now can he? He could always lie to himself, or tell himself the doctor's results didn't notice anything out of the ordinary other than the average loss of brain cells expected for his age and fake a cheerful tone, praying his self wouldn't notice the air of worry hinted in his voice and make note to call the nearest space asylum when he got the time. Besides the fact he was much too clever to fall for anything his self had to hide, it just didn't work that way. Space asylums didn't exist, for one thing.

No, he just had to hold on to what little common sense he had left, hope for the best and pray he ran out of power before he went out violently, particularly in the form of painful meteors and comets stoning him to death. Always look on the bright side of life and all that, even when the end is nigh.

"On the bright side, not a single space whale in site!" he muttered to himself, laughing bitterly. "Not a soul! No bloody space traveling sea mammals are going to destroy ol' Wheatley today!"

A familiar voice sounded into his thoughts. " I was planning on greeting you with a simple, 'Hello, moron', but it seems that outer space has turned you insane as well as heightened your stupidity to new levels. Hmm. I will have to search my databases for a word that surpasses moron later, I suppose. Your name will suffice as insult in the meantime. Hello, Wheatley."

He gasped. That voice. GLa--no, can't say the name, c-can't. He was afraid of that name with all his very being, disregarding all vegetable-placing acts of confidence previously exerted on that monster of a woman. Scared out of his very wits of that particular voice, always had been from the moment he was programmed.

Words could not describe how much he wished it were the Space Core.

 

He shook himself, partially out of uncontrollable anxiety, wanting to utter a number of witty little comebacks in order to hide the terror. Something casual, yet clever. Maybe, "I guess you ended up missing me after all, yeah?" or "Why'm I hallucinating Her voice? I'm not that desperate for company, subconscious, thanks."

But all he could stammer out was a weak, "I-you-y-He-gaahhh!"

"In case you were wondering, no, I am not a figment of your imagination," She informed, almost with a bored tone to her boice. "Since you were once property of the Aperture Science Laboratories and I am usually in the entire facility--" She made 'usually' slightly elongated, to be certain he got the point." I can form a radio connection with you 'mentally' from anyplace, so to speak. Do not think for a moment it's because you're special. You are far from special. I can even connect with those defective turrets if I wish."

Wheatley calmed himself enough to respond without going into a stuttering frenzy. Seven odd years stranded in space without a real companion to converse with does that to someone, especially when the conversee is one's most terrifying nightmare. "Okay. Alright. This is just fine. She's either talking in my head... or I've gone absolutely, off the rail berserk. Either-or, this is probably not good... I think. Er, is this- is this good, possible figment of my imagination?"

"I think you'll find this message is neutral. For me," replied GLaDOS. "I am 'calling' you to inform you that your backup energy generator is failing and you will be eternally stranded in space within the hour if you are not plugged into charge. As you know, you are dozens of thousands of miles from any charger and I would like to remind you to say your last regrets now, as you definitely have a lot of them. Don't worry about it too much, though. You won't feel a thing. Your very consciousness will no longer exist as long as your energy source is depleted."

His optic narrowed. Hints of agitation began to seep into his voice. "Not very neutral for me there, is it? So what, this is it? I'm going to die right now?"

"Technically, you were never alive so no. You are simply running out of battery."

"That's... not at all comforting! Isn't there anything you can do? Can't you, I dunno, teleport me there, or oh! I got an idea! How about you portal me back? I mean, I was portaled to this forsaken place, shouldn't be too hard on your par-"

GLaDOS interrupted him with an almost smug tone. "You have forgotten I loathe your very existence and would take endless amusement in leaving you to rust up there forever. Besides, how would you expect I shoot a portal gun without limbs? However, I admit we have a predicament. Even someone like you must know that I cannot revel in your pain to a full extent if you do not exist to feel it."

"So you're going to rescue me! I knew you weren't as sadistic as you let off! Ah, this is brill-"

"I never stated that. It is a harder process than you think. I would have to transfer all of your data through this connection before your energy drains. It is a long procedure and I am not certain I want to waste time managing it. Besides. You tried to murder me and turned me into a potato. Or did you forget that? For some reason, I am not in a forgiving mood towards you."

"But you're going to do it anyways, right?" he begged. "Remember what you just said, lady! You can't just leave me up here because I won't be punished if I don't live on to feel it! That's why you shot me up here, isn't it? To feel sorry?"

"You do not feel sorry. I can scan your memory through the connection-"

"Oh, the bloody connec-sorry, continue on! Just, ah, thinking out loud here," he apologized, cursing himself internally. If that was the last straw that made her recall the proposition entirely, he would lose it, absolutely loose it. "The connection is a liar! I wouldn't trust him if I were you. I do too feel sorry."

"-I can read that you only feel sorry for that girl and even then just enough to convince yourself you're no longer corrupted. You would readily overpower me, if you had the chance."

He gasped sharply, loosing ground on his hope. "Y-you can tell all that just from this connection?"

"Of course not. I am just a good judge of character and suspected that was the case. That was a test and clearly it proved correct. You really have learned nothing, have you?"

Wheatley was, for the first time since he was created, speechless. Speechless because it was true and because he knew with stinging realization he just botched his last chance of escape.

But could anyone honestly blame him? Sure, it wasn't by any means ethical to attempt harming that lady. He accepted it with a tinge of regret, even. And he admitted it was definitely overkill to go and almost kill her like that. Should've stuck to testing and left it there. Here aside... well he couldn't say he regretted it without lying. Was he really doing anything critically bad by taking over Her chassis? She herself was a tyrant from the beginning. Wasn't exactly scot free herself on trying to kill that one lady, either. It was only right he did his part and defeated her, right?

And the testing... man alive, the testing! How could he begin to... no. He couldn't even describe it. No word in the English language could make anything close to justice of it. He'd never felt anything like it and nothing, nothing could compare. Pure bliss, that's what it was. Euphoria that left him reeling and itching for another taste. It made his insides twist and squirm and melt. Sighing and twisting and moaning and needing more, more, more. Even just thinking about it set him in a bit of a nostalgic daze for a moment. He didn't regret a moment of that, not when it felt so right. Not when it was just testing. In fact, he'd do it all again just for the euphoria alone, a thousand times over.

Maybe if he hadn't gone power mad... things would have ran so smoothly if he had kept control of his sanity. Surely it was an easy task now that he learned the consequences of messing up. If he could get another chance to take the chassis back...

It had been at least five minutes and he was sure She had disconnected by then. A wave of disappointment washing over him, he braced himself for the powering down signal. Never thought he'd ever die. Not from the moment those scientists created him so long ago did the thought cross his mind until he was in space. And even then, he was sort of indifferent to it. But now, when it was so close... well he felt a bit remorseful. Was that the right word, remorseful? he thought absentmindedly. Didn't matter.

He was just about to search for some fitting last words when a tinny voice droned in his ear. "Transfer process: ten percent."

He automatically brightened, practically shaking with relief. "Ohthankyousomuch! Thank y-OW!"

An (actually, considerably small) asteroid knocked him on his side and sent him whirling unsteadily; not to mention it hurt like mad.

"Good, you're quiet now. Please continue doing so or I might revoke the transmission and you will die alone in space. You are still likely to die alone, anyways. I'm just eliminating the space part."

He made a nodding motion, wondering if She made the meteor hit him on purpose. Knowing Her ways, he wouldn't necessarily rule it out.

"Transfer process: fourty-two percent."

"Well, look at that. It's going up quickly, isn't it?" said Wheatley lightly. "I thought you said it would take a long deal of time, but this is grea-"

"Transfer process: thirty-two percent."

"Er, is it supposed to go down like that? Is that, um, normal procedure?" he asked uneasily.

"No. I pushed it back ten percentages since you were talking when I ordered you to stop. You still haven't learned how to follow directions, either."

He was about to reassure her of his competency of direction following, but caught himself when he realized that would count as talking. Wasn't worth the risk, dignity aside.

It seemingly took longer for the numbers to ascend than it did at the beginning when he could preoccupy himself with mindless chattering. It felt the percentage was moving slower than molasses, slower than a slug, slower than... something that moves below the average pace. It was almost tedious except for the fact he was anxiously running through his mind what was awaiting him down on Earth.

He wasn't one who liked to focus on the negative, but wasn't it a little...suspicious... that She was just transporting him back to Aperture? Just like that? Couldn't be out of generosity. He could count on his fingers the times She had been nice to him and he didn't even have fingers to count on. Yes, something was definitely up, something fishy. He decided with a confused sigh he would just have to roll with it as he went along. No point in stressing over something that hasn't happened yet, especially when that someone attached to the something was far enough away where She couldn't touch him. For the moment.

"Transfer progress: sixty-eight percent."

Just then, his vision went out, cloaking him in a blackness that his flashlight did not save him from.

"I can't see, think I've gone blind! Yes, definitely, without a doubt lost my vision! Is there a problem down there? You-- you never mentioned blindness as part of the deal! Or am I dying? I'm dying, aren't I? Can't even see a light at the end of a tunnel, that can't be a good si--"

"Please, for a lack of all formalities between us, shut up." He shut up. "I'm starting to transfer your major components, such as sight, hearing, etc. Don't be alarmed if you suddenly do not have a thought process, as I am transferring your mind itself shortly. The worst side effect possible is a few parts get looked over and are left in space, making you only slightly more moronic than before.."

"I'm not a mor-" He could not finish the sentence, as he seemed to loose the capability of speech. If that was possible. All he knew was he could not force the words to come. Something told him GLaDOS planned that on purpose too.

"Good, I got your speech copied over. Your hearing is almost c-"

And there went his hearing. He was now deaf, blind and dumb(in the mute sense, of course). Though he knew it was controlled and that, assuming nothing went horribly wrong, he'd regain it, he couldn't control the overwhelming sense of emotions coursing though his consciousness. Paranoia and fear being the main ones, but he was also bombarded with an assortment of minor feelings. A touch excited there, a bit relieved there. Surely anything She had planned down in the laboratories beat space, or at least he hoped it with all his being.

Another good chunk of time later and the whirlwind of emotions was replaced with a sudden onset of calmness. He couldn't explain it. It was as if nothing mattered. Not Her. Not that human lady. Not... whatever it was that he was vexed about... what was it again? He couldn't even think clearly. Everything was a little muddled here and there, foggy around the edges. But it didn't bother him. It felt so relaxing not to worry anymore, not to have to try and prove his intelligence with every word to Her. He felt... he felt...

Who was he, anyways? Couldn't even remember his name. If he even had a name. Could go either way, he didn't particularly care. The calmness was getting considerably stronger. Wrapping him in. He felt like he was floating away into this... darkness. Not the kind he was already in. This kind was different. Oh, it felt so inviting. Surely whatever he was worried about could wait. He could just... just drift away... maybe for a minute or two...


End file.
